


Define Your Meaning Of War

by Bolinlover123



Category: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 04:31:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bolinlover123/pseuds/Bolinlover123
Summary: "You have a plan?" Varrick muttered through the corner of his mouth, "Come on, kid, you have to have a plan." Bolin shook his head despondently."Nothing," he said quietly. When Bolin, Varrick, and the rest of the refugees get captured by Earth Empire soldiers while heading up north on their boat, they are sentenced to the work camps. Their only hope is to survive the horrors.





	1. Chapter 1

Cartoons » Legend of Korra » Define Your Meaning Of War  
Author: Bolinlover123  
Rated: T - English - Angst/Suspense - Reviews: 49 - Published: 11-18-14 - Updated: 04-07-18 id:10834223  
Note: This story is going to be co-written by myself, Bolinlover123, and my friend Boasamishipper. We are going to switch off every chapter or so, but the story will always be in my account.

Warning: this story will contain harsh themes, cursing, and violence. During Bolin and the other refugees' time in the reeducation camp, we will try to make it as realistic as possible. Both Boa and myself, make things angsty.

That being said, we hope you enjoy and review. Thank you :)

Reminder; this story takes place after 'Reunion" when the refugees, Bolin and Varrick, head up north on the boat, after getting past the check point.

Define Your Meaning of War: by Boasamishipper and Bolinlover123

This is it, boys, this is war, what are we waiting for?  
Why don't we break the rules already?  
I was never one to believe the hype,  
Save that for the black and white

I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked,  
But here they come again to jack my style  
That's alright, I found a martyr in my bed tonight  
Stops my bones from wondering just who I, who I, who I am  
F.U.N. "Some Nights"

...

"Bolin," Varrick whined from his sprawled position on the floor of the boat. "This is ridiculous. How much longer until we get there?"

"Varrick," Bolin said, pinching the bridge of his nose for the thousandth time (and Spirits, damn it, if that area hadn't gone completely numb by now), "it has literally been an hour and a half, okay? Ninety minutes, and some unknown number of seconds. We are going up north, and it's going to take a while for us to get up there. This isn't one of your warships. It'll take a while. Okay?"

"Okay, okay, sheesh!" Varrick huffed, rolling his eyes. "Jeez, kid, you get angry when you're on the run."

No, he fought the urge to say, I get angry when you're constantly pushing all of my buttons like a toddler in control of the radio set! He understood that Varrick's constant complaining was his coping mechanism. The man was used to the fine life of caviar and things given to him on a silver platter with the push of a button, hand delivered by Zhu Li. But Bolin wasn't Zhu Li, and he sure as hell wasn't going to wait on Varrick the entire time they were on the run.

Baraz looked unimpressed, and Ahnah-the waterbender girl whom Bolin assumed to be his girlfriend-looked like she was fighting the urge to start laughing.

"Damn," said the man. He'd lit a cigarette several moments earlier, and the thick smoke easily filled the air around them. Baraz had offered Bolin and Varrick one, too, but Bolin had had enough cigarettes to last him a lifetime during his childhood, and Varrick hadn't been used to lighting one on his own, so they'd both declined. "Did you expect you'd be on the run in the lap of luxury?"

"To be fair, I never expected to be on the run in the first place!" Varrick shouted, flailing his arms around like a crazy person. Bolin snorted as the sole bird on the boat railing flew away, squawking as if it was affronted. "I didn't think that Kuvira would turn absolutely insane—"

"Shh!" In a flash, Ahnah's hand covered Varrick's mouth, preventing any more complaints from coming out. Bolin's respect for her rose. "You never know who could be listening, Varrick. The walls have ears, you know."

Varrick didn't speak. Bolin actually sighed, leaning back. He rolled up the sleeves of his uniform, enjoying the feel of the sea breeze around them, not to mention the peace and quiet as their boat sailed by the coast of the town.

"Drink, Corporal?" An older man in his forties hiccupped, eyes red-rimmed as he swung a bottle of liquor around. He was seated with a few other fugitives, whom were also chugging down beers as if there was no tomorrow. Bolin knew the man's name was Tzu Ji. Tzu Ji hadn't been as quick to trust him and Varrick, as Baraz and Ahnah had. He still viewed Bolin as the enemy, which was why he kept referring to him as a Corporal, his rank back in the army. Bolin couldn't say he blamed him.

"Ah, no. I'll pass. Not of age yet, you see." He chuckled awkwardly.

In the last hour on the boat, Bolin got to know some of the others who'd escaped with Baraz and Ahnah. One of them, a man named Jiron, dubbed the name "Tricks" for the yo-yo he seemed inseparable from. After watching him put on a mini-show with it, Varrick had asked what made the toy so special to him. It turned out the small plaything had been one of his five year old daughter's favorite things to watch. He had been teaching the five-year old before Kuvira's siege started, before she was shot in the head by an unruly Earth Empire soldier.

Hearing those stories made Bolin surer than ever that his decision to join Kuvira had been the wrong one. What had he been thinking, going away from his family? From Opal, for that matter? That last thing he had said to his brother had been nasty, defending everything Kuvira said, and, at the time, he had felt a small satisfaction at the way Mako frowned at him. Like had had proved Mako wrong for once. He'd been drawn in by the promise of fixing everything, by leaving the world in harmonized perfection. Little had he known that attempting to make the world perfect and balanced left it more scarred than possible. There were always two sides to every story, after all.

Had he really been so nieve? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Hey, Tricks?" he asked. The man looked up from his yoyo. "What was your daughter's name?"

His face turned dark, like the sun disappearing from behind a cloud. "Mei-Mei," he said shortly. "And that's all I have to say about that."

"I have a brother," Bolin said, not knowing where he was going. "His name's Mako." The thought of Mako hating him now- like he knew he deserved- made his eyes burn, especially at the thought that he may never see him again.

Tricks looked nervous. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because… I don't know." Bolin sighed; and he really didn't. "I just wanted to tell you that—that I know what it's like to go through this. I know what you're going through, Tricks. You're probably blaming yourself, and I should know—I've gone through that, when my mom and dad died. It'll hurt for a long time…a really long time." Bolin laughed self-deprecatingly. "But I swear, it'll get better."

Tears were in the man' s eyes. "Thank you, sir. Erm. Bolin."

Ahnah stood up suddenly, taking her hand off Varrick's mouth—the man in question gasped like he'd been deprived of oxygen for a thousand years—and gasping herself.

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Oh, Spirits, no…"

"What's wrong?" Baraz leapt to his feet, followed shortly by Bolin and Varrick. "Storm ahead? We can dock for the night—"

"Not a storm," she stammered. "Worse."

Bolin's breath caught in his chest as he saw another boat approaching them. It wouldn't have bothered him under any circumstance…but when the flag of the Great Uniter flapped on a flagpole in the middle of the deck—and since everyone on their boat was a refugee…

Spirits, they were screwed six ways to Sunday, weren't they?

"Monkeyfeathers," Bolin swore. "Fucking monkeyfeathers."

"Everyone, you have to stay calm," Baraz ordered. "Bolin, Varrick, can you talk those guys out of not searching our boat?"

Varrick snorted. "Hate to say it, bucko, but I think that me and the kid are out of luck, here. You saw what happened at the last checkpoint. I can't rig something up to get us out of here, and if the Flaming Wonder over there," he jabbed a thumb towered Bolin,"lavabends then this hunk of junk will sink fast. Reminds me of this time that Zhu Li and I were testing certain types of lava on my yacht in the Fire Nation—"

"What he means to say," Bolin interrupted, "is that we can't do what we did last time."

Varrick looked annoyed. "Isn't that what I just said?"

"What did he just say?"

Bolin nearly leapt out of his skin to see one of the soldiers from the other boat leaning against the railing. How the hell he had gotten there was beyond him.

"N-nothing," he covered lamely. "My friend's just remembering one of his vacations in the Fire Nation. He misses it." Behind him, Ahnah, Tricks, Tzu Ji, and Baraz were nodding like bobble-head dolls.

"Why would he want to go to the Fire Nation?" the soldier asked in pure disbelief. "Under Kuvira's rule, the Earth Empire is the perfect place to stay." Then, all of a sudden, the soldier stalked closer to Varrick, grabbing the man's head and tilting it from side to side. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"No, sir," the inventor said quickly—too quickly—and he jerked backwards. "I think you'd remember seeing a beautiful face like mine…th—though not as beautiful as yours, my man! Do you use a certain moisturizer, because I can never get my forehead to look as shiny as yours. Then again, we were just trudging for the woods for days on end and I don't even know when my last shower was and—"

The soldier held up a hand, halting Varrick's words in their tracks. "I remember you now," he said, smirking. "You're Varrick, aren't you? We met once while I was with the Great Uniter herself." Varrick blanched. "And that must make you Corporal Bolin." He added, turning to said earthbender," Members of Kuvira's inner circle on a boat with this sorry excuse for people? No wonder you were considered traitors to the Earth Empire." He paused. "My name is Master Sergeant Luong, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with us."

With that seemingly harmless statement punctuated by a fierce smile, the soldiers from the other boat leapt onto theirs, and started yelling, brandishing nightsticks and charging the refugees. When one of the men jumped on top of Ahnah, Baraz flipped out, sending a wave of fire toward the man that sent him overboard and into the cold water.

Bolin yanked violently against the arms holding him, trying to break free, but with no success. He kicked out at the guy on Varrick's right, who groaned and collapsed to the deck, clutching the area around his groin. Varrick stood in front of Tzu Ji and a girl named Al-Mura, brandishing a screwdriver and daring anyone to come over near him.

"Thanks, Bo!" Varrick called.

"Don't mention it!" Bolin called back, and with another kick, the man holding him let out a cry and his grip on him loosened for a split second. The second was just long enough for Bolin to twist out of his weakened grasp and run backwards over to Varrick, wishing desperately that he could lavabend without sinking the entire boat and drowning its passengers.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Ahnah, move!"

"Tzu Ji, get out of the way!"

"If one of you motherfuckers makes any sudden moves—"

"Go fuck yourself!"

"Hey!"

Bolin's eyes grew wide as he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun held by Luong, whose face was stern, like Bolin was a misbehaving student that needed reprimanding. The barrel was pressed roughly against his forehead, and Bolin was already breaking out in a sweat. His heart was hammering so hard against his chest that he thought it would burst.

"Alright, you pieces of maggot shit, listen up!" said Luong, his grip on the gun never wavering. Bolin's blood pressure skyrocketed. "What I'm about to say is exactly what's going to happen now, and if it doesn't—if you put one fucking toe out of line— Corporal Pretty Boy over here will die with seven holes in his chest and the rest of you will die in a watery grave."

"That'll be better than living under Kuvira's rule!" shouted Tricks. "Anything would be better than living under a ruthless bitch for a dictator!"

In a flash, one of Luong's men shot Tricks in the chest, and the man's look of stunned absolution didn't fail as he went over the side of the boat. Tricks' yoyo had fallen from his fist and onto the wooden deck of the boat. It rolled over to Bolin's feet, then stopped with a horrible thud as it met the tip of his boot.

"Anyone else have something to say about our Great Uniter?" Luong asked rhetorically. No one moved a muscle. Even Varrick had nothing to say on the matter. "Excellent. Now my men are going to escort you onto our boat, where we'll be taking you all to a work camp until we have further use for your kind." Luong smirked. "And if any one of you tries to escape or pulls anything funny, I'll make sure that you get the same treatment as the man we just killed. Am. I. Clear?" his final three words weren't a question, but a promise bathed in blood.

Ahnah, Baraz, Bolin, Varrick, Tzu Ji and the others hastily murmured their assent.

"Excellent." Luong's grin reminded Bolin of a shark-squid. "The Great Uniter will be most pleased of your cooperation."

And he pistol-whipped Bolin across the face.

Varrick shouted, Ahnah gasped, and Baraz took a threatening step forward, but each of them were prevented from helping by Luong's men. Barely conscious from the pain in his cheek, Bolin was yanked to his feet by Luong, barely able to stay still with his head swirling. The muzzle of the gun was rammed into his diaphragm, and he nearly choked, his breaths gasping and his blood pounding in his ears. Luong grabbed hold of Bolin's arm again and, with the gun trained on him (not to mention the potential threats to Ahnah, Varrick and Baraz), he was marched onto the soldiers' boat. Ahnah, Varrick, Baraz, Tzu Ji, al-Mura and the others were practically thrown aboard after him.

Already feeling like a trapped animal, Bolin looked around, trying desperately to find any area of escape but failed. Short of jumping over and swimming to shore (an idea with absolutely no merit whatsoever), he and the other refugees were trapped.

Monkeyfeathers.

They were taken back to shore and chained to one another, the soldiers making sure that one couldn't run away without taking the rest down with him. Bolin was at the front of the line, Varrick directly behind him. To the earthbender's surprise, the older man didn't say a word.

Guess he's in shock from all that's happened. He was right, we shouldn't have gone with Ahnah and Baraz. Fucking monkeyfeathers, why didn't I listen? The only sound that the fugitives made were short breaths and Al-Mura's quiet sobs. After what seemed like miles, they made their way to a large building that Bolin recognized as a HQ. Kuvira had been planning on setting these up in every small town and big city, just so those who were loyal supporters of her could enlist and talk with other soldiers.

The fugitives were marched into the building, and the sound of the large door slamming closed behind Bolin echoed harshly in his ears. The feeling of being trapped with nowhere to go intensified, and it took literally every ounce of willpower that he had to not throw up or run away on the spot—neither of which were plausible. Bolin would end up taking down Varrick or Tzu Ji with every move he made. With Luong and the other soldiers in the lead, they made their way down to a windowless corridor just wide enough for six people to walk through at a time. The ceiling in the hallway was short, and Baraz had to duck in order to keep from getting a concussion by way of banging his head on the ceiling. A few dim lights hung from the walls, allowing them all a glimpse of the dirty gray floors. Bolin's stomach clenched as he noticed the dirt stains looked darker than the rest. Almost like dried blood.

They entered a packed room and moved through a sea of faces and a cacophony of raised voices. Everywhere they turned, they saw different people standing around, speaking in weird accents, the colors of their skin ranging from dark to fair, the healthy and strong to the sickly and fragile. Some held religious scriptures in their hands. Some were dressed in fur coats. Some wore nothing but underwear and a shirt.

Bolin blinked. Why're they all in here? What did they do? Then it hit him. They weren't of Earth Kingdom descent, and therefore weren't worth a yuan in Kuvira's book. Spirits, he really hated himself for being part of her shit-eating cult. Really, what had he been thinking? A man at the front desk looked down through his glasses at them.

"Name and rank?" he asked in a bored tone.

"Master Sergeant Luong and the Seventh Battalion. We're escorting newly received prisoners-of-war." The master sergeant puffed out his chest, looking like someone suffering from a superiority complex. "That includes Corporal Bolin and Corporal Varrick." The man at the desk's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "They'll be sent to Zhangfu 13, of course," the man said, writing furiously on a scrap of paper.

"And the others?"

"They aren't worth the shit they produce. Put them wherever the fuck you want." Luong turned to his men, snapping his fingers, and Bolin and Varrick were unchained from the rest of the group. Before Bolin could even consider running away, the master sergeant pushed the earthbender and the inventor into the arms of the two bulkiest men in the battalion.

The man at the desk looked up at Ahnah and Baraz. "Earth Kingdom descent?" Ahnah shook her head, but Baraz nodded.

"On my grandmother's side." Said Baraz.

The man gave an uncaring nod and printed their nationalities on the paper before asking the other fugitives the same. Only Baraz, Tzu Ji and al-Mura were of Earth Kingdom descent. The others had no relation to the earthbenders whatsoever. Then nurses ran into the room, combing through the fugitives' hair, checking for lice, then pulled out buttonhooks to look beneath their eyelids for trachoma. The nurses inquired about their medical history, about their blood.

No one came near Bolin and Varrick.

"You have a plan?" the older man muttered through the corner of his mouth. "Come on, kid, you have to have a plan."

Bolin shook his head despondently. "Nothing," he said quietly.

One of the doctors reached for al-Mura, who screamed and flung herself at Baraz, shaking like a leaf on a branch in a thunderstorm. "People wearing uniforms make her think of Earth Empire soldiers," said Ahnah quietly, her face a mask of pain. "Soldiers that killed her girlfriend. It traumatized her."

Bolin's jaw clenched in anger. His heart leapt in pity for al-Mura. Even Varrick stared at the girl with a new look of respect. Luong glanced at al-Mura again before shrugging and scrutinizing his fingernails. He gestured to the fugitives with a quick sweep of his hand. "Send her, him, and him to be detained with the corporals," the master sergeant ordered, referring to al-Mura, Tzu Ji, and Baraz.

"The rest of them…send them to Camp Yangzhou." Baraz's eyes went wide with utter horror and anger as he lunged for Luong, sparks flickering at his fingers.

"NO!" he yelled. "Damn you, no! Don't take her away from me, please! Let me go with her, you can't take Ahnah away. She's all—she's all I have left, please!"

"NO!" Ahnah was fighting even harder than Baraz as the soldiers unchained her and the other fugitives whose names weren't called from the others. "No, please! Baraz! Please, Baraz, don't let them take me! Please! BARAZ!"

Luong punched Baraz in the face, causing the man to collapse onto the ground, clutching his nose as blood leaked through his fingers.

"Shut up!" the master sergeant ordered. "Shut the fuck up. Jinn, take the woman and the others away."

"NO!" Ahnah screamed, but the soldiers paid her no mind as they frog-marched her and the others down the rest of the corridor, the woman's screams fading into silence a few moments later. Baraz cried, burying his face in his blood-streaked hands and his shoulders shook from the force of his tears. "Please, please," he pleaded, knowing that no one was listening. "Please, don't take Ahnah away…"

"Come on!" Varrick said, and Luong swiveled around to look at him with an expression of distaste on his face. "Hey, you can't take her away from him. That's just not right!"

"What makes you think your opinion matters to anyone, Corporal Varrick? You and your thoughts aren't worth a hill of beans in this world," Luong spat. "Under Kuvira's rule, there's no place for people like her. Only the strongest can survive." Varrick went silent. Bolin felt like he was tied to a psychotic ostrich-horse galloping toward a burning stable.

This can't be happening. It c-can't be happening! Baraz, Tzu Ji and al-Mura were roughly escorted over to Varrick and Bolin, whose breathing escalated. This couldn't be happening. This kind of thing only happened in the movers, not in real life. Never in real life. Not to him.

At the thought of movers, his mind suddenly flashed to Republic City; to Mako, then to Opal. Would her ever see them again? Or Kai, Korra, or Asami? If he died in here, would they ever know what had happened to him or would they be left wondering forever if maybe he was alive somewhere? Would they just write him off as Kuvira's bitch and never think of him again? He wasn't sure which scenario was worse. Under Luong's orders, Bolin, Varrick, Tzu Ji, a silent Baraz, and a still-crying al-Mura stumbled down the corridor as they were led back to a small room and thrown in. Bolin's legs immediately gave way and the earthbender fell with a thud to the hard ground.

"Get some rest," Luong said, leaning against the doorframe. "Tomorrow you're going to be shipped off to Zhangfu 13. Tonight will be the last night I can guarantee you that you won't be murdered in your sleep."

And on that note, the door slammed closed, leaving the five people lying on the ground, listening to the deafening silence surrounding them.


	2. Taken

Cartoons » Legend of Korra » Define Your Meaning Of War  
Author: Bolinlover123  
Rated: T - English -

Angst/Suspense - Reviews: 49 - Published: 11-18-14 - Updated: 04-07-18 id:10834223

"Curse this morning sun, drags me in to one more day  
Of reaping what I've sown, of living with my shame  
Welcome to my world, and the life that I have made  
Where one day you're a prince, the next day you're a slave

And I've held out as long as I can  
Now I'm letting go and holding out my hand

Brother, here I am again  
Will you take me back tonight?  
I went and made the world my friend  
And it left me high and dry

'Casting Crowns' Prodigal Son

.........

The cold floor of the cramped room that they were thrown into wasn't the worst sleeping place Bolin had ever had the misfortune to be in. What was worse was his knowledge that this situation was just the beginning, and knowing Kuvira, there would be more hell to come sooner rather than later. The fact that they were all chained together didn't make sleeping very easy—not that any of them could sleep even if they wanted to.

Bolin felt like it was some time past midnight now, but he couldn't find it in himself to be tired. His mind swirled and went in circles, trying to think of everything from a million angles and desperately hoping that there was a way to get out of this. Short of embracing Kuvira's ideals again, there wasn't—and he'd rather do anything than join up with a ruthless megalomaniac. The only light in the room came from the blaze of fire in Baraz's hand, but even Bolin could tell that the flame looked weaker than usual. Their attempts to come up with a plan were futile: they couldn't melt the chains around them, Bolin couldn't metalbend, and if they even tried to make a run for it, they'd make it less than a foot before getting shot or worse, killed.

"Hey, Corporal," Tzu Ji said dryly, leaning against a wall while al-Mura curled up in the fetal position on the floor, her head resting on his lap. "We're screwed, ain't we?"

For that, he had no answer.

"We're not screwed," Baraz said sharply. His fists clenched, and the flickering light in the room grew stronger. "We're going to find a way out of this."

"Yeah," Bolin said, his voice hoarse as he shut his eyes and rubbed them with the heels of his hands. "We're going to find a way out of this."

After what seemed like forever and a year, morning came, and the five prisoners shielded their eyes from the blinding light that streamed into the room from the metal door creaking open. Luong's face looked more sadistic than he had last night, the morning light reflecting every angle of his beefy face. He had a lit cigarette dangling from between his teeth, and he let out a raspy breath that sounded like he was laughing at their misery, before sneering at them like a cobra at his prey. Luong was accompanied by two other soldiers brandishing nightsticks and their own guns. The two men entered the room and roughly pulled Bolin and the others to their feet. Luong gave a piercing whistle to the soldiers, and Bolin flinched as they shoved him and the others forward.

"Alright, you pieces of shit, let's go, move it!"

Bolin's legs were already sore from walking all day yesterday and lying in a cramped position all night. His muscles ached, his head throbbed like someone had whacked it with a baseball bat and he could tell his cheek was bruising and it stung like a buzzard wasp. They were put back in line, the chains checked and tied tighter to the point that Bolin could barely move a step in either direction without jostling into Baraz or Varrick. al-Mura screamed when a guard grabbed her by the shoulders, and she kicked out uselessly, flailing around. The guard threatened to send her with the rest of the women to another work camp, to which her eyes went wide, and she instantly went quiet. Despite the awful situation, Bolin knew that al-Mura would rather be in a work camp with them than with complete strangers.

"Did you all have a nice rest?" Luong asked, his voice dripping malice. He swung his gun around like a little boy playing with a stick. "I hope your living quarters were acceptable."

"Where is Ahnah?" Baraz asked, looking desperately around the room like the waterbender would appear out of the shadows. "What've you done with her?"

Luong snorted and shook his head. "Your little bitch is fine," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now shut up and start walking."

It was plain to anyone that that was the most information Luong would volunteer about the matter, so Baraz shut up, although he glared holes at the back of the Master Sergeant's head during their entire trek down the hallway. They were taken from the building full of people—Bolin, to his horror, thought he actually saw more there this morning than last night—and they trudged down the streets for about an hour before they came to a train station. Bolin, Varrick, and the fugitives were ordered (more like thrown) into a train car, and just like that, they were trapped like animals once again. Bolin sat down slowly, as not to jostle the others tied to him, and the others did the same.

"You should get comfortable," one of the soldiers mocked. "It's gonna be a long way to Zhangfu 13, and we'll be making plenty of stops for passengers."

The way he said 'passengers' sent a chill down Bolin's spine, because Spirits damn it, he really hoped that the soldier didn't mean what he thought he meant. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang, and the train car became dark and silent. As Baraz lit a small fire in the palm of his hang, Bolin looked around despairingly, only seeing a bowl full of water in the corner, and a bowl full of something that looked like piss to the left of Tzu Ji.

One of the first things that assaulted his senses was how horrid the smell was in here, like something had died and had been left to rot for five years. It wasn't helping that none of them had had a decent shower in days, and the stench coming from the bowls in the corner were starting to make him feel sick. His growling stomach reminded him again of how long it had been since he had last had food, but he didn't care. It wasn't like they would be fed anytime soon.

Varrick finally spoke for the first time in hours, leaning against the wall. "At least when we get to the camp, we won't be tied up anymore. You guys will be able to bend then, and we can make an escape."

Bolin said nothing. For the first time in his life, he didn't think he could be that optimistic.

"We barely escaped with our lives from the last camp," Baraz answered the inventor, his voice grim in the dim light. "They shoot at whoever tries to escape, and if they get caught, they make an example out of them. It happened to—to my friend; they brought him in front of everyone and hanged him, for everyone to see."

Stricken by the thought, al-Mura started wailing again; Tzu Ji tried to quiet her down. Bolin shivered, the horrifying images becoming too clear in his mind.

"It was hard enough growing up on the streets being hated for being half Fire Nation," he stated quietly, instantly gathering everyone's attention on him. "People…they would take one look at my brother and me and send us away, just because we were different. They'd persecute us, always gave us the worst jobs. And now the Earth Kingdom is no better. I never thought I'd hate being Earth Kingdom. I can't believe I ever worked for Kuvira and her sick Empire."

Baraz put a hand on his shoulder. "For what it's worth, it's people like you who matter. You can help take Kuvira down, Bolin. Besides, you know the Avatar, right? She's gonna put a stop to this."

Bolin shook his head. Their optimism was having a counter-effect on his mood. Was this how Mako felt all the time?

"I…I haven't seen Korra in years. No one knows where she is." The others frowned at him, their optimism stifled by his statement. "I think we're on our own for this."

al-Mura and Tzu Ji nodded.

Varrick sighed. "Zhu Li always knew how to give the best pep talks..."

"Zhu Li's not here!" they all yelled at once.

Before the inventor could respond with a complaint, several loud bangs heard through the wall of the train car. "Quiet down back there!"

And they all shut up.

Bolin was terrified. There weren't many times in his life where he could say he was truly terrified. (Or maybe there was. Shady Shin always did say he was a crybaby.) He was scared and lonely when his parents were killed, the constant fear that he'd be taken from Mako lingered to this day, and he'd been really afraid when Mako had gotten seriously sick the winter he turned eleven. He was always scared when Mako wasn't back when he said he would, and it was getting dark out. He was terrified when he almost got his bending taken away, staring into the horrible white mask of the madman Amon. He was also terrified when Korra had been poisoned and she lay in her father's lap, the life draining out of her.

Right now was different, though. He was more scared than all those times multiplied together. Questions crashed into each other in his mind, each more horrible than the last. Would they even make it to the camp? What if this was all a trick and they were all going to be killed the second they stepped out of the train car? What if they killed everyone else and left him alive? What if Mako and his friends never found him?

He whimpered and put his head in his hands.

"Hey, kid..." Varrick elbowed him in the ribs. "Kid."

"What?" Bolin groaned. He couldn't be nice at the moment if he tried. "What do you want?"

"I know what you're doing. Try not to think so much, huh?"

"Shut up, Varrick." Then, because he felt particularly petulant, he said, "This is all your fault anyway."

The older man spluttered like had just been fed a hundred lemons. "How is this situation my fault?! You were the one who wanted to get on the darn boat in the first place!"

"Yeah, well, if you had never recruited me to be in Kuvira's army, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"I was only trying to—"

"Both of you shut up!" The four heads swiveled to the teenage girl in the corner. al-Mura hadn't said a word in...never, actually. Just screams and weeping. If she was speaking now, then it had to be serious. Bolin clamped his mouth shut, and tried to get his breathing under control. "We worked together as a team before," al-Mura continued, her voice rough from disuse. "And we can do it again. We have to. Or we're going to die."

Everyone nodded. Baraz clapped his hand on her shoulder, and she gave him a little smile.

"Sorry, kid," Varrick muttered.

"Yeah," Bolin said, "me, too."

...

.

...

After three full days of being stuck in the train car, Bolin picked up on the daily routine quickly.

Every few hours, the train would make a screeching stop at one of the small towns. Guards yelling, accompanied wild screaming, and gunshots were always heard from outside. Each person, before entering a train car, was patted down and stripped of anything useful or sentiment, then followed by a massive hoard of people being thrown into their train car. Bolin's senses went into overdrive as he noticed just how many people were in there with him, Varrick, Baraz, Tzu Ji and al-Mura. Women. Men. Children. Brothers, sisters, grandparents. Rich and poor. Sick and healthy. Benders and nonbenders had been rounded up like cattle and stuffed like sardines into the dusty train car. Dozens of the innocent prisoners were chained together at the hands and feet, and Bolin squished himself into the wall to try and make room for more. He couldn't move an inch without brushing up against someone, and the lack of air combined with mushing bodies was making it absolutely stifling.

One waterbender had somehow managed to not get his waterskin taken away. He bent water from the damp air around him, giving each person a mouthful to drink. Varrick asked why his waterskin hadn't been taken away when he was patted down. The young man said he had hid it in his pants, and that everyone needed water to stay alert. No one argued, because he was right. Water was all they had to sustain themselves. So Bolin took a few gulps from the waterskin because he had to. Because it was what Mako would have wanted him to do.

...

.

...

Four days passed, and more and more people came. He could barely breathe. His joints were locking up.

As he locked gazes with the gray eyes of an old man sitting across from him, Opal's voice rang in his ears: Forced labor and slave work. Deserters shipped off to who knows where.

Now, at least, he knew where the deserters were shipped off to, but it didn't make anything any better. Why hadn't he listened to her? One detail in particular hit Bolin as mercilessly as a punch to the gut: he was the only one in here with green eyes. The black sheep, the outsider. Every prisoner was looking at him and Varrick—or their uniforms, rather— and then to their faces with disgust, pity, or gratitude. Bolin wasn't sure which he deserved. He closed his eyes and tried not to listen to the screaming as the train made another horrible stop in another town.

This can't be happening. Two dozen—no, four dozen—more people clambered into their car. The space for more people had been occupied days ago. al-Mura and some of the other younger children were forced to sit on people's laps, and Bolin wished he were anywhere else.

An hour or so passed, and a young woman who was very much pregnant started screaming. She kept saying her water broke and that the baby was coming. Another woman, probably her sister, was trying to calm her down, and telling the guard to stop the train.

"Please! This woman needs help! She needs a doctor; her baby is coming!" she yelled. "Someone help!"

"Try to take slow, deep breaths," Bolin told the woman. He then looked at the other woman who was trying to help her. "Spread her legs out and prop her head up. Someone else get me some water, and some towels. We're going to be here a while."

The others blinked at him like he had two heads, and all of the commotion stopped. Bolin looked away nervously; he didn't want to explain how he and Mako had helped a teenage girl give birth when they were on the streets. Luckily or not, he didn't have to explain anything because the lady started screaming again, clutching her stomach desperately as waves of pain wracked her thin frame.

"My baby!" she wailed. "Help me!"

The train came to a sudden halt. The guards were yelling, and the doors were tugged open. The pregnant woman was yanked to her feet by two soldiers.

"Shut up! Stop screaming, woman!" one yelled, slapped her across the face, and laughed as she fell bonelessly to the floor.

"Hey!" Bolin tried to move toward the soldiers. "Hey, leave her alone!"

"Don't touch her!" screeched the other woman. "Mie Lin!"

The other soldiers grabbed the woman, dragged her outside and shut the door, leaving Bolin and the rest of them trapped inside with the woman still screaming on the other side.

A horrible bang erupted from the outside, and half of the prisoners jumped. Mie Lin stopped screaming all at once.

...

.

...

Another day and night passed, and eventually they arrived at their destination. The train stopped with a screeching halt.

Baraz whispered to Bolin, "Once we're out, I'm gonna try to disarm a guard."

"How?" Bolin looked at him incredulously. They were all very dehydrated, starving, and wounded, but the words from Baraz were clear. "No, Baraz." Bolin gave him a stern look. "They'll just shoot you! You can't—"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Well, no, but they have to unchain us at some point. We'll get our chance." Bolin didn't want to tell him that if he tried anything, he just take the others down with him. He thought it was pretty obvious. "Just do what they tell us, and then we can escape."

"Is that an order, Corporal?" he snipped.

The door burst open, and the guards lunged for prisoners. "OUT! OUT! Everyone, let's go!"

"No. I'm asking you," Bolin whispered as a guard grabbed him by the forearm, "for the good of everyone here. We will get our chance, and then you can find Ahnah and the others and we can—"

"No talking! Shut up!"

It must have taken about half an hour to get everyone out of the train cars. They were ordered to line up in rows in the courtyard, and talking was strictly not permitted. The sun was starting to go down and the temperature was dropping fast. Bolin shivered, wishing he had a warmer outfit, and knew that if he didn't get a chance to lie down soon, he was going to drop too.

Then, somehow cutting through the silent pandemonium and confusion, a whistle was blown. The silence got even thicker, like a visible force. Every person froze in their tracks as the Great Uniter herself stepped out of a building, the gravel crunching under her boots. Bolin's blood began to boil at the sight of her. Spirits, what he wouldn't give to be able to strangle her where she stood.

"Hello, everyone." Her voice was brisk, and Bolin's eyes went to her belt, where a gun was stashed in a holster with a whip to match. "I'm sure you all know whom I am by now, and why you are here. I will skip the petty details and get straight to the point."

Bolin felt Varrick shaking beside him.

"Turn around," she said simply.

No one moved a muscle, too afraid of what would happen. Her eyes flashed—nearly a hundred people were at her mercy, and she breathed their fear in. She probably ate fear for breakfast.

"You will learn to follow orders here at Zhangfu 13, and you would be quite wise to learn quickly. I will say it only one more time. Turn around."

Bolin could feel the feet scuffling simultaneously as they each turned around.

"Do you see that sign above the gate?"

The question was rhetoric, but Bolin wasn't listening, despite the orders. He hummed numbly to himself as he let the surroundings sink in. There were high walls surrounding the entire camp, and barbed wires were everywhere else, trapping them in like fish in a bowl. Little wooden huts and guard towers were stationed around the camp, and off in the distance, Bolin could see a building that stuck out above the rest. It was a wide, rectangular building and the walls shone with what looked like platinum. But what really caught his attention was the huge smokestack coming out of the top, and the black smoke filling the sky.

He wondered what they were burning. It didn't smell like coal.

Varrick's sharp elbow to his ribs brought Bolin's attention back to the world around him.

"Corporal Bolin." Kuvira's voice saying his name sounded like a cobra's hiss. All eyes turned to him, and the tips of his ears turned red.

"Y-yes, ma'am." He tried to keep his voice calm and clear to try and convey that he wasn't intimidated.

"Since you are so interested in what we have to offer here at Zhangfu 13," she said, and he swore that her voice was going to haunt him in his sleep, he knew it, "then I assume you will have no trouble reading everyone our great motto on our gates."

Bolin stiffened. What was she talking about? Was it a trick? But then his eyes found the sign, and it stuck out so much against everything that he didn't know how he had missed it earlier. The platinum-barred gate that enclosed the front of the camp, bared a sign atop its posts that gleamed in gold.

Varrick elbowed him once more, desperately. Bolin could feel his heart crashing in his chest. Footsteps were approaching, and he didn't have to look to see who had stepped beside him.

Bolin swallowed. He opened his mouth, and began to read the words. "Work will set you free," he read.

"What was that? For everyone to hear, Bolin."

Said prisoner flinched. Sweet Agni, she was right next to him now, breathing in his air. He could smell her perfume, and it made him sick to his stomach.

"Work will set you free."

"Very good," she told him, and Bolin listened with shaking hands as she began to walk back to her original place, in front of everyone. "Turn back around."

Everyone turned at once. Bolin felt like he had already betrayed everyone here. He really was Kuvira's bitch, wasn't he?

"If you remember that motto, you will live. You will not be killed. Now," she snapped her fingers and the guards stepped up at once. "The guards will get you settled in."

They began going down the rows and unchaining certain people, and Bolin caught the look in Baraz's eyes.

"No," he hissed at the firebender. "Do you want to get yourself killed?"

"Silence!" a guard yelled. "Woman and children on the left: boys and men on the right!"

And the screaming began again. Bolin couldn't take this. It was bad enough they were all forced here, and now the soldiers were separating families? Those bastards. How could they?

"Woman and children on the left! To the showers!"

"Boys and men to the right!"

"Go, now!"

al-Mura was yanked from their chained row and dragged away by Luong, despite Tzu Ji's death grip on her hand.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Baraz hissed, lunging at the man who'd forced al-Mura away from them. Varrick and Bolin were pulled forward by their chains as Baraz tried to attack the man, and was met by a loud punch to the face.

"There's no need to fear," the beefy man replied. "We're just taking the woman and children to the showers to get cleaned up."

Baraz muttered something vulgar-sounding under his breath.

"Ah, that sounds great," Varrick stated nervously. "I haven't had a decent shower in days! I gotta wash my hair every other day to keep it healthy, you know."

The soldier smirked, and somehow it made bile rise in Bolin's throat. "Don't worry about your hair, Corporal Varrick. We'll be taking good care of that too."

Bolin let the soldiers lead him and the other men away to one of the huts. They were all unchained, but they didn't have time to try and get the feeling back in their hands before they were ordered to strip off their clothes.

"What?" Varrick asked in disbelief. "Why?"

Bolin moaned, fighting the urge to hit Varrick. He wished to any deity that was listening that his friend would stop asking stupid questions and just follow orders. The gun swung up to meet Varrick's viewpoint.

"Hey, hey," the inventor held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, "let's not be too hasty..."

"Undress!" barked the soldier. "All of you, now!"

Bolin wanted to cry in mortification as one by one, the boys and men stood stark naked like spring chickens in the little hut. A little boy with amber eyes came over to him and hid behind his back.

"I want my mommy..." the boy cried. "Do you know where my mommy is, sir?"

"No." And that was when Bolin could feel himself start to break, and he tried desperately to hold in his tears.

He pictured Mako in his mind. Mako and Opal and Korra and Asami. He kept them in his mind's eye and started humming a lullaby to himself, hoping that it would calm him down.

"Welcome to Zhangfu 13. Now get in line," demanded a guard, "and when I tell you to step forward, come up for examination." He put his hands on his hips and began pacing around the room. "We follow strict rules here, gentlemen. Here, you eat when we say you eat, you piss when we say you piss, and when we say jump, you ask us how high. You are all scum that Kuvira is doing a favor for by rehabilitating you instead of beating you where you stand. Your asses belong to us." The guard suddenly smirked. "First man into the shower!"

Another guard shoved Bolin forward into a steel cage at the front. Two guards sprayed him with a fire hose, and the earthbender spluttered and hollered as the pressure of the water sent him to his knees. Seconds later, the water was cut and he was yanked out, shivering furiously from the cold.

"Delouse him," ordered the guard. "Next man in!"

Bolin was then ceremoniously tossed to another guard that threw a cup of bright white delousing powder at him, covering his entire body with the sticky substance. Gasping and coughing, he got shoved to another cage, where a younger man passed him a jumpsuit and worn combat boots, which Bolin put on, grateful for the change of clothes and to be out of his uniform. The soldiers stood in front of the naked, shivering prisoners, each standing up straight with their arms at their sides.

"Welcome to Zhangfu 13," the first guard repeated, still smirking. "Enjoy your stay."


	3. Ain't No More Child's Play

Define Your Meaning of War by Bolinlover123 and boasamishipper

Oh for threatening my baby

Unborn and unnamed

You ain't worth the blood

That runs in your veins

Well, let me ask you one question

Is your money that good?

Oh will it buy you forgiveness

Do you think that it could?

I think you will find When your death takes its toll

All the money you made

Will never buy back your soul

Bob Dylan "Masters Of War"

...

......

"Excuse me."

Mako nearly fainted as he whirled around, a fire dagger already forming in his fist. He could feel the wind pick up and the ground rumble behind him, so he knew that Korra, Opal, and Jinora would have his back in this fight, not to mention Asami, whose Equalist glove made the air crackle and smell of ozone. But every person that he'd expected to see behind him didn't include Baatar Jr, two dozen uniformed men, and one war machine holding a white flag of surrender.

"What're you doing here?" Opal growled, her fists clenched at her sides. Jinora placed a soothing hand on her friend's shoulder, but her normally placid features were hardened as well. This meant battle.

"The Great Uniter sent me to relay some information," Baatar Jr said, managing to sound magnanimous and cocky at the exact same time. The prick. The war machine waved its flag again.

"As you can see, we come in peace. This will just be a diplomatic chat."

"You wouldn't come here for a diplomatic chat unless you had something good to say," Korra said bitingly, crossing her arms over her chest. The ground had stopped shaking, so Baatar Jr was at least being taken seriously. But Mako could tell that whatever this was, it couldn't be good.

"What do you want?"

"I came to inform you that Corporal Bolin and Corporal Varrick were officially reported missing in action a few days ago," Baatar Jr said. "You have my sincerest apologies."

Mako blinked uncomprehendingly at the man, feeling like he'd suddenly been hit by a truck. "Run that by me again," he ordered the other man, his heart already racing, even though it couldn't be true. It just couldn't.

Baatar Jr pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, like releasing the information was a nuisance beyond measurement. "Corporal Bolin and Corporal Varrick were reported missing in action a few days ago," he repeated. "As Corporal Bolin's next of kin, we thought that you should be informed. Zhu Li, Varrick's contact, was already notified. You have my condolences."

Mako's train of thought crashed into a brick wall, jackknifed, and exploded into a billion pieces the size of sand molecules. This couldn't be true. They—they had to be lying, didn't they? He could feel the fire dagger in his hand dissipate in the wind as he turned to look at his friends, each of them looking like they'd been poleaxed.

How could Bolin have just gone missing? What had the circumstances been that had caused his little brother and an eccentric inventor to just up sticks and vanish out of the blue? That was crazy! Spirits, he prayed that Kuvira hadn't been involved in the situation whatsoever or else Mako would personally squeeze the life out of her.

.

I'm sorry. I don't want to work for your glorious emperor and her military dictatorship!  
.

Mako hoped beyond hope that those wouldn't be the last words he'd ever say to Bolin, angry and full of spite. He prayed that wherever Bolin and Varrick were, they were alive and well and heading home, because Spirits damn it all, he needed his brother now.

"Spirits," he whispered, choking on the words like they physically hurt him.

Mako saw Opal release a tiny whimper before shoving her fist in her mouth to block out the tears, murmuring a muffled 'oh, no' every few seconds. He watched Jinora turn away, unable to look at any of them. He saw Asami's face turn red, then green, then white like a broken traffic light. He saw Korra with the tiniest hint of tears in her blue eyes, and knew that all of them were wondering how he could remain so stoic in times like this.

He didn't even know how Baatar Jr could manage to look so sanctimonious; the complete asshole was probably happy to cause so much trouble—and suddenly Mako's panic began to swell in his soul, threatening to overpower him at that very moment with questions that couldn't be answered. He bit his lip so hard that it bled, and the coppery taste that filled his mouth still tasted better than his worry.

It was obvious that Baatar Jr wanted to see him cringe, but Mako wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how his mind and body were in complete denial, even though his instincts kept whispering otherwise.

"I'm sorry, everyone," Baatar Jr said before whirling around and walking off into the distance, his men and the war machine behind him.

Bison bull, Mako thought, and his knees trembled, threatening to turn into jelly so he would collapse to the ground. He wanted to scream and cry. He wanted to be somewhere else, to be so drunk that he wouldn't know which way was left or right. He needed closure, he needed to figure out a way to surmount this.

Mako knew that he wouldn't sleep well again until he managed to fix this. There had to be a solution to this problem out there somewhere. And he was going to find it, no matter how long it took. He was going to find his brother and bring him home.

"I'm so sorry," Korra murmured and gripped Mako's hand tight enough to cut off his circulation, but he couldn't find it in him to complain. She pulled him to her chest, and he held her close, listening to her breathe. He felt Opal, Jinora and Asami's arms encircle around him, making him feel like he was a grieving widow, but he didn't correct them.

They hugged each other for a long time, nobody saying anything or wanting to break the hold. There wasn't anything to say. Nothing would make them feel any better right now.

...

.

...

One of the guards forced Bolin to his knees, and he thrashed in the man's grip, swearing profusely, before receiving a staggering blow to the back of his head. Bolin collapsed to the cool floor, a bead of blood trickling through his matted black hair and smearing the skin on the back of his neck. They pulled him up by the back of his collar. The guard smirked and pulled out a shear, much like the kind that Bolin had once seen farmers used when they shaved the wool from their sheep-goats.

Oh, Spirits, no, please tell me they aren't going to do that…

"You have lice," the guard proclaimed, saying it like one would say 'the plague'. Bolin shuddered. "Your hair needs to be shaved."

Varrick was fighting even harder than Bolin when the soldiers forced him to the floor, but at least the guards hadn't resorted to violence just yet.

"Look," the inventor kept saying nervously, "Zhu Li always cuts my hair for me…I can't just let some stranger do it. You haven't even received my previous haircut records, you aren't qualified to do this!"

"It ain't a haircut," Tzu Ji muttered, "they're shaving us."

"They can't!" Varrick shouted. "I don't look good bald! I don't have the right skull structure! Ask anyone!"

"Shut up!" growled another guard, and Varrick shut up. It might've been by the threat in his voice, but Bolin thought it was because of the way the guard kept fingering the trigger of the pistol he held. "For Vaatu's sake…why do we always get the difficult prisoners, Jun?"

Jun shrugged. "Kuvira's orders." Neither guard questioned it further than that, like not following Kuvira's orders was akin to blasphemy. Then again, Bolin supposed, it kind of was.

Tzu Ji and Baraz's hair was the first to fall out in clumps on the floor, black and brown mixing with the tears and occasionally drops of blood when the shears went in too deep. Neither of the men let a complaint drop past their lips. Baraz's mind was probably on Ahnah, whereas Tzu Ji was probably worried sick about al-Mura. Bolin couldn't get his mind off the young girl, hoping that she wasn't being forced to face the same treatment as them—not to mention Ahnah. For Baraz's sake, he prayed that Ahnah wasn't dead or dying or in any pain: he knew that the man wouldn't be able to handle that.

"Please!" begged another prisoner, a fat man in his late twenties as the guards restrained him. "Please, you've got it all wrong, I ain't supposed to be here! I did nothing wrong! I'm loyal to the Great Uniter, I swear it, please! Please, you gotta believe me!"

"I'm not going to count to three," growled Jun. "I'm not even going to count to one. I want you to shut the hell up, man, before I'm forced to do something that I don't want to do."

The fat man kept blubbering and wailing.

"Shut up," Bolin heard Tzu Ji whisper, something that was quickly taken up by Baraz and Varrick. "Spirits, man, just shut up…"

Jun stood up, pulled out his baton and tossed it to the guard restraining the man. The guard began to beat the man, brutally raining blows onto his back and stomach. The man flailed, fell to the ground and tried to crawl away, wailing, "Please, please, please…"

The place went completely silent, save for the man's shuddering cries, as the guards kept whacking the man with the baton until he mercifully passed out. Jun, unsmiling, took out his pistol and shot the man in the head.

"Get the body down to the smokestacks," he ordered the other guards, who saluted him and picked up the man's body before taking him out of the room.

Bolin's blood pressure skyrocketed as the shear whispered through his own hair, curls of ebony black tendrils falling to the floor like macabre snowflakes. He moaned, wanting to thrash but didn't for fear of the guards cutting his scalp open and then leaving him to bleed out and die on the ground.

"Why are you doing this?" Varrick asked, his voice stammering as his wavy brown hair was shaved off entirely, revealing nothing but a tan scalp. "Why?"

Jun shook his head. "Spirits, you're all the same. You're like toddlers, 'why why why'?" The guard's voice was high-pitched, obviously imitating a baby. "'Wah, wah, I want my hair back, wah! Let us go!' Get a grip on your balls, boys, because you're never going to get out of here."

"They will someday," said another guard, laughing slightly. His nametag read Lifen. "When they get taken to the smokestacks like Fat-Ass just did."

"Oh my Spirits," whispered Tzu Ji, his voice sounding broken and twisted all at once. Bolin wanted to comfort the older man, but couldn't deal with that now. Not with the loss of his hair making him feel like he'd lost an organ or something else as equally vital. "Oh, sweet Spirits…"

"Shut it, you shank," Jun snapped at Tzu Ji, who recoiled slightly. Lifen snickered.

"Take 'em to the the barracks, Lifen, now. We can deal with the branding in the morning."

"Do you have any information about Camp Yangzhou?" Baraz asked as Lifen pulled him to his feet. Bolin, Varrick, Tzu Ji and the others were quickly given the same treatment.

Jun laughed, a thin reedy note that reminded Bolin of a whistle blowing. "For Spirits' sake, why do you want to know about Camp Yangzhou?" He paused, suddenly grinning. "Oh, I see. You must have a loved one there, right?"

Baraz nodded.

"Well, that's just too damn bad, sir. I have all the information in a file—but you can't get any of it, you piece of shit. You aren't worthy of it."

"Please, just—"

"No! Now shut your trap. Take 'em away. NOW!" Jun screamed, flecks of spit coming out of his mouth and landing on Baraz's face. The firebender, to his everlasting credit, did not flinch.

"GO!" Mechanically, the prisoners moved forward. They were half-clothed, bleeding, freshly shaved, their outlooks pessimistic, but still, they moved forward with the guards poking batons into their backs. They were sorted into groups of six, each group getting their own barracks to share with the women and children.

"My kids," said a man, "please, put me with my kids, sir. They're—they're all I got."

"That's too damn bad," Lifen said. "You get what you get. Now move your ass to the third barrack and stay there until we tell you to come out."

Luckily or unluckily, Baraz, Varrick, Bolin and Tzu Ji were placed in the same barrack, along with the man who'd complained about being placed apart from his children, and a man named Isoroku who had a tattoo of a dragon on his left forearm and a piercing in his left ear. The barrack was small, altogether the size of a small garage. Varrick pushed open the door with a creak that made Tzu Ji shudder, and the men slowly walked into the room. It wasn't what Bolin had been expecting, but it was definitely not any better. The entire room smelled of something musty, and his nose detected human body odor. Bolin's stomach roiled, but he certainly couldn't turn back now. There were twelve beds shoved against the walls—more of cots, really, with scratchy blankets, and no pillows, and Bolin could see rows of wooden outhouses standing lopsidedly outside.

"Tue and La on a broomstick," Isoroku remarked. "This place is a piece of shit."

"Can't complain," Bolin managed to say. "I've had worse."

Altogether, this place was better than living on the streets—although the circumstances had certainly changed. On the streets, he was free. Here, he was a prisoner.

"I've certainly had better," Varrick announced, curling his lip as he looked around. "Zhu Li once—"

"No one cares about Zhu Li," chorused the other men, each of them sounding like weary mothers corralling their kids when they were having temper tantrums.

...

.

...

The rest of the day was spent getting settled in—Bolin, Varrick, and the others each chose their own beds, shook the blankets out for lice, and cleaned up the cobwebs in the corners with their bare hands. When the women and children came in, the barrack looked a little more presentable than it had when they'd arrived, but it still didn't look like a place anyone wanted to live in.

"Well," said a woman, her voice soft, "since we're all going to be here for a while, we may as well introduce ourselves, right? My name's Kiyi." She nudged at the two children clinging to her arms. "This is my son Notin, and my daughter Sitka."

"I'm Ren," said the man who'd complained about his children. "Do you know anything about a little boy named Haru? About this high, four years old? Or my daughter Lian? They're all I have left."

"I'm sorry, I don't know." Kiyi looked sympathetic. "I'm sure they're around here somewhere, we'll find them." Kiyi looked around the room. "Well, go on," she prodded, "what about the rest of you lot? What're your names?"

After about five minutes of silence, Isoroku introduced himself. He was followed by a skinny young woman who looked a bit timid that called herself Ayah. Neither of them looked more than twenty years old. A boy around fifteen and his twin sister introduced themselves as Qin and Saki. Then there was Baraz, who managed to speak without sounding broken-hearted, then Varrick—who was pleased when he found someone to talk with that had a brief knowledge of business, a woman named Janaki—and then Bolin and Tzu Ji.

"Do you know about a girl named al-Mura?" Tzu Ji asked once it was somewhat quiet. "We—we were friends in the last reeducation camp we were in."

"Yes, actually, I do," Janaki said, interrupting Varrick in his long-winded monologue about engine structure. "She's in the second barrack. She's all well and good, no problems. Didn't give any trouble to the guards. al-Mura seems like a good girl."

Tzu Ji exhaled in relief. "Thank the Spirits," he murmured, his shoulders slumping. "Do you think they'll let me see her?"

"Probably, if you're well-behaved," Saki muttered under her breath.

"What're you guys all in for?" Kiyi asked, changing the subject. Disloyalty to the Earth Empire was the main theme of all of their answers. Ren and his kids had been caught trying to board a boat to the Northern Water Tribe. Qin and Saki's parents had been killed in a raid. Janaki had been kidnapped. Ayah had been taken directly out of her hometown, where she'd been persecuted for being a lesbian. Sitka had been transported because of her birth defect, and Kiyi and Notin had followed her.

"We were Earth Empire soldiers," Bolin finally said, ashamed of himself even now. "Varrick and me, that is. But not anymore—we ditched Kuvira. We were on a boat heading north with Baraz, Tzu Ji and some other fugitives when Master Sergeant Luong's battalion caught us and sent us here."

"Aren't you friends with the Avatar?" Ayah asked Bolin, squinting at him. "I recognize you from the papers."

Bolin nodded. "Yeah, me and Korra go way back." Then he paused. "Why do you ask?"

Ayah let out a low whistle of surprise. "Well, then," she said, "I suppose that being a soldier isn't the only reason you're in here. They probably locked you up here because of your relations to the most anti-Kuvira person in the entire Four Nations."

"I…I never thought about it like that," Bolin replied truthfully. Maybe that was true…maybe that was why they'd been taken to the toughest work camp in the whole Earth Empire. "Spirits, maybe you're right."

"Maybe," Janaki said quietly. "Point is that we're all here."

In the silence that followed Janaki's statement, Sitka waddled over to Bolin, her right leg dragging slightly behind her as she peeked up at him. "Hello," she whispered.

Bolin smiled down at her despite the somber mood in the room. "Hi, there," he said. She took another step forward, poking the hem of his pants. He grinned down at her, rubbing a hand on her bald head, and winked.

"I know," he said, lowering his voice. "I'm a total heartthrob, right? You should have seen me in the movers." She giggled and jumped up on his cot, leaning against him. He tossed her up in the air and caught her as she laughed again. "Again!" she called. "Again!"

Notin, apparently deciding to join in on the fun, ambled over to Varrick and, despite the older man's squawks of protest, pulled himself onto the inventor's lap, grinning. "I'm Notin," he said to Varrick. "I'm five."

"I'm Varrick," Varrick answered, sounding traumatized. "Is my age really necessary?"

"What does 'necessary' mean, mister?"

"It—well, I can't really define it. Zhu Li would. She's the brains of the operation here, that cold-hearted war machine." Notin giggled at the description. "And she's a walking dictionary, believe me."

"Was this Zhu Li broad your sweetheart?" Janaki inquired, a smirk on her lips. "The way you're talking about her sounds like you two were an item."

Varrick's cheeks went pink and he scoffed, his eyes darting around the room. "N-no! Don't be ridiculous—us actually together—never in a million years—me and Zhu Li doing the thing together—that's ridiculous. No way."

Isoroku clucked his tongue. "Denial," he said sympathetically. "Always the first symptom."

"Shove off, man." Varrick tossed his pillow at the man. He dodged it, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "Any talk of romance now is strictly forbidden, understand?"

"Aye aye, sir," Bolin said, saluting his friend, and everyone snickered as Varrick's face turned an interesting shade of puce.

Sometimes I just don't understand, Bolin thought, looking around the room. What could any of these people have done to piss of Kuvira? They're all so nice! I guess it just goes to show you that Kuvira's just as whacked up as they come. Someone would come to rescue us, he decided.

Someone had to come.

...

.

.

...

They would, wouldn't they?


	4. Have You No Heart

6 million people crying from the grave. Invisible people calling out their names

Beautiful people taken from their homes. Oh, scattered people no where to go

And the mothers and fathers and the sons and daughters, they were carried away in trains

Their bodies are broken and beaten and burned and their ashes fell down like rain

They were branded with a number and a yellow star and paraded around in shame...

"The Forgotten People" Ted Pearce.

......

Early that morning, Bolin and the rest of the prisoners were given a harsh awakening by one of the guards earthbending them right out of their cots. From the way Notin landed on top of his sister, it was a miracle that Sitka hadn't broken her arm. Kiyi had scooped the girl into her arms, soothing her until her cries had stopped, while Notin clung to Varrick's leg like it was an anchor holding him to the earth.

Ayah and Isoroku had tried bargaining for a meager breakfast—at least for Notin, Sitka, Qin and Saki, who needed some nourishment the most out of all of them—but the guards refused. "You haven't done anything to earn nourishment," one said, whose nametag read Jing. "Neither have they, I'm afraid."

"They're children!" Kiyi pleaded. "Please, they haven't eaten in days…"

"Shut up, bitch," growled Jing's partner, Hatzu. "You'll get food when we think you should get some, you understand? Now move."

Even Baraz, who would've probably asked for information on Ahnah by now, kept his mouth shut and made his way outside with the others, who were shivering in the cold morning air, almost like leaves in a thunderstorm. Kiyi held Notin and Sitka close to her, and Ayah and Janaki made sure that Qin and Saki were close together. It was something of an unspoken agreement in their barrack that no one with family here deserved to be separated in times like these.

The prisoners were separated into groups by barrack numbers—much to the obvious relief of Kiyi and her children—and then were taken inside the main building. Bolin bit his lip, wondering what was going to happen inside. Looking around the scared, huddled groups of people, it appeared that no one dared to make a run for it, probably remembering those who had tried.

When it was their turn, Bolin and the others were shoved inside, nearly tripping over their own feet as they marched deeper into the building, the guards glaring at them through the dim light. After a few minutes of going through the meandering hallways and flinching at the hateful looks of the guards, they made it to a large room that reminded Bolin of a hospital waiting room. Before he could get his bearings, each person in his group was shoved unto a stool. Varrick fell onto the floor amidst cruel snickers from the guards and men in white lab coats, but forced himself to his feet and limped to a chair. Tzu Ji's hands were clenched in his lap as one of the doctors stuck something into his forearm, drawing out red droplets of blood. Bolin couldn't help but wonder if the older man was afraid of needles.

At an order from Hatzu, the doctors stopped what they were doing to come and give the others cursory onceovers, examining them like animals. Bolin struggled not to fidget as one doctor in particular—the one that the guards called Dr. Lian—came to check him over. The earthbender kept his expression blasé as Dr. Lian shone a bright light in his eyes, picked through his hair with a fine tooth comb, and stuck his gloved-fingers in Bolin's mouth. The entire process was disturbing and uncomfortably intimate, and it was all Bolin could do not to shiver in fear.

Lian relinquished him to another doctor, who pulled Bolin away from the stool before turning to his assistant: a stocky young man who was writing furiously onto a clipboard. "Lian says he's clear, Iko. No lice or illness," the man announced before turning back to Bolin. "State your name and nation of birth."

Bolin refused to say anything. His gums were still sore from the previous doctor's poking and prodding, and besides, he didn't want to speak to someone who would probably kill him if he even dared to breathe wrong.  
Suddenly, he was slapped in the mouth, the doctor's breath hot in his face. "Speak up, or else I'll tell the guards to get it out of you by force."

"Bolin," he said, the words spilling out of him like water from a faucet. If there was anything he didn't want at that moment, he did not want those guards to get anything out of him by force. "Republic City."  
"I didn't ask for the city," the doctor said. "I asked you for your nation. What nation are your parents from?"

Bolin's confusion was growing, as well as the feeling of dread. "My mom was from the Fire Nation. My dad was from the Earth Kingdom, and I'm from Republic City."

"Ahhh..." The man's smile made Bolin's stomach start tap-dancing—it reminded him of the looks Zolt and Viper gave him growing up. The looks that they gave him right before they started beating him. "You're a half-breed. That's very nice." The disgust was clear in his voice. "Take notes, Iko, it's our first one and it definitely won't be our last. This is the kind of shit that the Great Uniter wants us to diminish from her Empire. Mark his lineage down as both Nations."

The assistant nodded twice before reaching out and dragging Bolin from his stool to the end of a long hallway. He kept trying to look back, but he had lost sight of Varrick, Baraz, Tzu Ji and the others ever since Dr. Lian had gotten a hold of him. In the room the assistant took him to, a long metal table was there, with another round of bored-looking guards just watching the proceedings like it was a children's kuai ball match. "This one is of from Earth and Fire Nation descent," the assistant informed the guards before disappearing down the hall, his lab coat wafting behind him.  
One of the guards gestured impatiently, while the one next to him stifled a yawn. "Hold out your right arm, shank."

Bolin glared back with the ferocity of a saber-moose lion protecting her cubs. There was no way he was going to let the guards do anything to him. "No," he told them calmly.

The guard rolled his eyes, before waving his hand to his comrades. It took them quicker than Bolin would have liked to admit to wrestle him on top of the metal table. forcing him to hold out his arm so that the underside was showing. No matter how hard he struggled against the many people holding him down on the table, Bolin was unable to break free.

Bolin's eyes widened in unmasked horror as the guard pulled out a hot, red poker with the brand gleaming in the light. "No! No, stop," he cried out, struggling against their death grip on him. "Please, damnit, don't do this—please!"

The guards look disgusted. "Hold him still," ordered the one that had been yawning. "And shove this in his mouth. We don't want him to alert the other shanks about this." He thrust a leather stick with several teeth marks in it at Bolin, who was forced to chomp down on it. It tasted like sweat and he fought the urge to gag.

The two guards pinned Bolin down harder, letting the other one press the poker hard into his arm. The hiss of the fire roared in the silent room like a waterfall. Then Bolin lost his inner battle and started screaming in agony as the searing pain of burning flesh traveled up his arm. Colors began to blur and the sounds around him began distorting.

He hoped that no one would have to ever experience what he was experiencing—the kids wouldn't have to go through with it, would they? Kiyi would die before she'd let her children get branded like farm animals.  
Maybe that was the point, the cynical part of him thought before the well-meaning part of him told the other part of him to shut up, because Spirits damnit all, everything hurt…

After what felt like forever and a year, the guards hauled Bolin off the table, where he fell onto the ground convulsing in pain. One of the men kicked him in the stomach, another hauled him to his feet—Spirits, was this what dying felt like?—and shoved into the next room. He could hear the other screams of fear and pain behind him from the person who took his place. Who was it? Kiyi? Varrick? Baraz? Tzu Ji?

"Wait here for your work assignment," the guard who'd branded him said coldly, before slamming the door behind him.

Bolin stood there in the middle of the floor, clutching his arm in pain as swears and terrified screams kept puncturing the air like needles in a pincushion.  
Unsure of what else to do, he sat down, brought his knees up to his chest, and began to hum.


	5. I've Got Soul But I'm Not a Soilder

Cartoons » Legend of Korra » Define Your Meaning Of War  
Author: Bolinlover123  
Rated: T - English - Angst/Suspense - Reviews: 49 - Published: 11-18-14 - Updated: 04-07-18 id:10834223  
Hey, guys! So this story is back! Sorry for the, well, long absence.

So here we are. A few things. First, this chapter is going to be short, just to try and get back in the swing of things. I've tried to make this one a little less intense, with some of Bolin's inner sarcasm and sense of humor, as a way for him to cope and whatnot. Let me know if it works.

So, here you have it. Hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think. ;)

Aaaannnggstt away...

....

Bolin was not having a good time.

He should have never mentioned that he could lavabend, for one thing. (Not that anybody was permitted to bend here in this hellwhole) The guards had deemed him strong enough to work with the machinery and wood. Chopping and sawing wood until his arms felt like they were going to fall off. He didn't want to think about what all this was going to be used for.

"I have to go to the bathroom." He complained loudly for the third time in twenty minutes. The guard, used to antics by now, ignored him. The new guard, one that had been traded in during the last hour, did not.

"Shut your trap, prisoner," He had exclaimed, cocking his gun. Bolin really knew he should have enough sense to shut up, but he needed to be taken elsewhere to have a good look around. Being stuck in one shack all day, was not giving him a good sense of this place to try and form a plan.

His arms were shaking with effort to continue sawing. He hadn't had a good meal and water in days, and his beaten up body was starting to take its toll. He faltered slightly; the heat was intense, and he didn't know how much longer he could last without a break.

"C'mon, you scum! Work!" The man cracked his baton, and Bolin flinched. The bastard. Honestly, Ghazan had been nicer to him, and that guy had tried to burn him alive with lava. When he got out of this place, he swore he was going to make every last one of these leaches pay.

"Don't bother with him," another guard spoke up from behind. He had a white beard and yellow teeth hidden behind the fuzz. "Half-breeds are always more trouble. This one just likes the sound of his own voice,"

True, but ouch. The first guard stepped closer to him, with a wicked smirk, "Oh, yeah? Maybe this will get him yelling,"

Bolin didn't have time to react as the burning-hot crack of the metal sliced down on his upper back. It was like lava was eating away at his skin as spots danced in his vision.

Vaguely, he was aware of his own painful screams as someone yelled his name. Through his swimming eyesight, he noticed the dark skin and blue eyes of Varrick. His friend looked horrified. Bolin tried to call out, to say he was alright, but the taste of blood in his mouth stopped him.

"Bolin!"

"...seven!" The man screeched, as Bolin braced himself against the last whack. At least he didn't have to pee anymore.

"Maybe now you'll learn your rights, maggot! You see this?!" he raised his voice, gaining the attention of the camp, and indicating the prisoners all look at him, "This is what happens, when you don't fallow the rules our Glorious Unity has made for us!" He announced.

Bolin listened and waited for an response. A defiant retort-anything. But all he got was the horrible silence, and then the wrecked sobs from some woman.

Shhh, shut up, Bolin tried to send his thought to the woman. Do you want them to do away with you, too?

Bolin shut his eyes tight from his crumpled position on the ground. The woman's wails were not stopping, and now he could hear the sound of her feet dragging on the ground as she was taken away. The sound of a child screaming and a wrecked door slamming.

Bolin felt his heart break. After three years of helping Kuvira, of thinking that the reeducation camps were for horrible criminals- true enemies of the Earth Empire- here he was.

How had things come to this?

Bolin found himself slipping into unconsciousness, but not before slimy hands wrapped around his upper arms.

"Bolin!"

Maybe they would kill him now.


	6. What's In A Name

Hey, guys! So like I promised, I'm going to be updating this soon. My weekends are pretty busy with studying and homework, but I'm gonna try.

Also, I know the first few chapters have guns. When this was first published, I was co-writing it with a friend of mine and she added them in. I'm gonna take them out, since this universe doesn't have them. I'm gonna use whips and other torturous weapons of torturous torture. Also, during the Holocaust- which I'm sure you've all realized by now that this is based off of- women and men were put into separate barracks and different parts of the camp. Sometimes children even got their own separate barracks, and most times never saw their parents alive again. I am trying to make this as historically acturate as possible, but to develop important relationships that will later come into play, I'm going to mix men, women, and children together in the same barracks.

Any questions, feel free to ask!

Please review and hope you enjoy!

.......

It was the cool sensation of healing water the woke him from his beaten unconsciousness, the sweet relief from the burning woulds from the whip that had mauled his back. Bolin moaned in relief, daring to open his eyes. His eyes darted around from his limited position on his back and he took in his surroundings; he was in the barracks, no shirt on, laying on his stomach on the wooden plank that was a poor excuse for a bed.

He tried to look up to see who his savior was, but his body rejected the action as pain shot up his abdomen. He sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut. Yep, definitely a broken rib.

"Stay down, son. Those bastards really did a number on you," the man said, "Started beating you while you were unconscious as an example,"

"R-ren..?" He whispered. He had no idea the man was a healer, or where he had gotten a waterskin from, but knew Ren was risking his life by using his bending in the camp. He'd seen a little firebender girl get thrown into the mud and kicked again and again for bending at a guard the other day; no one had done anything. No one had moved a muscle except to carry on with their forced labor. Her screams had echoed throughout the camp, prickling Bolin's skin and making him clamp down on his teeth until his jaw ached. The girl had laid there in the filth for what seemed like hours until the guards had blown their whistle, signaling it was time to go back to their barracks, and two teenagers had carried her away.

Bolin couldn't get her face out of his mind.

Had these people lost so much hope that they wouldn't help a poor child? Were they too terrified of their own safety to do anything? Or had they just been trapped here for so long that they had come to accept the cruelty of it all?

From the corner of his vision, Bolin saw a glowing ball of yellow liquid floating above him in practiced, concise moments. The urge to vomit twisted his stomach as Bolin realized what was being used to sow his battered back together. But Bolin knew having his wounds healed with urine was the least of his problems.

He had a broken rib, hadn't showered in four days, and was going to smell like literal shit now. Awesome.

"Sorry, kid," Ren must have seen his reaction. "The only water they give us is at meal time, and I couldn't risk stealing a water-skin and stashing it in here,"

Bolin nodded silently.

"I healed your back as best as I could, but I'm no prodigy at this. You'll have a lot of scars, I'm afraid," Ren stated, the regret clear in his voice. "I've got to move you now to work on that rib of yours. There's no easy way to do this,"

Bolin clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. If he could get through the merciless agony of having his skin melted off with a brand, he could handle a broken rib. He'd gotten enough broken ribs as a kid on the streets to know to just grin and bare it. Mako always said he was trooper.

Bolin blinked. Mako...

Where was Mako now? Did he-

"Ready?"

Bolin blinked the image of his brother away and shut his eyes, felt Ren's firm but gentle hands grip him and turn him over.

His eyes burst open with a yell, as his abdomen was sent ablaze, "Gahhh-!"

Ren's eyes flickered with sympathy.

"Sh-shit..." Bolin clutched his side with a vise grip.

"You're a real trooper, kid," Ren smirked, but there was no happiness in it, "I've seen bigger men wet their pants from the fun of a broken rib," The yellow water moved under the man's hands and hovered over Bolin's ribs. Bolin released his tense posture; the warm, soothing healing water sinking into his skin and bones.

"You'll need daily healing sessions for about a week. See if you can get lucky enough to work in the sorting shack with the metal tools so you won't be on your feet all day,"

Yeah, like that would happen.

"Say, Ren," Bolin managed to give a withering smile, "When all of this is over, how about we take you and your kids to Republic City as your new home. You can all start over there, you can be free,"

A shadow cast over the man's face; a ghost of something. Hope, or painful acceptance- Bolin didn't know. His brows furrowed. Bolin would be the first to admit he was bad at reading people- heck, look where his nativity had gotten him. But he felt like he had seen that look before somewhere, and he didn't like it.

"Ren?"

Ren was looking out the window in the far distance; there were these stairs that seemed to go down into a room underground. Bolin didn't know what that room was used for, but he had heard about it whispered in the dead of night when the others couldn't sleep. Then, to the left, Ren's gaze lingered on the smoke-stacks. The large building billowed chocking smoke day and night, the puffs raining down like ashes.

Bolin didn't know how much coal they must be burning, or whatever it was or why. It must be coal, but no one would confirm it. All he could think about was how whenever a prisoner went there, they came back looking haunted, a glazed look over their eyes. The guards chose certain prisoners everyday to go to the smoke-stacks and get out of the cold; always ones who looked ill or hurt or too weak, and perhaps help out with wielding.

Those people never came back. The healthy people who were sent to the smoke-stacks always came back looking like something in them had broken inside.

"Hey, so... What's all that smoke they're using for? What's all the coal for?" he had asked the first night-only four days ago-as he lay awake in the barracks, wishing for his friends and family.

The room had gone silent; he could hear each person's heart stop.

"What? What did I say?

The others had gone silent, Kiyi had started to cry.

"They're not burning coal, Bolin," Baraz had said in a low, quiet voice. His eyes darkened, shimmered.

"Then what is-?"

Baraz cut him off. "You'll find out soon enough,"

When Ren looked back at him, his blue eyes were misty, "Yeah, kid, you hold onto that for me, okay? Don't let it go, you hear?"

Bolin didn't know why, but he felt like crying.

That's when the whistles blew from outside their barrack.

"GET IN LINE!"

"LINE UP!"

"HURRY UP, VERMIN!"

"MEN TO THE RIGHT, WOMEN AND CHILDREN TO THE LEFT!"

It was routine, and one that Bolin had come to learn to dread with everything he was.

Bolin shivered and bit back a groan of misery.

Every morning before sunrise they would be woken up at five a.m. by the guards storming into their barracks and demanding they all stand in rows of ten in the freezing, muddy courtyard. Batons and whips got the prisoners who weren't fast enough to get out of bed and make it outside. It lasted for hours; the guards walking through the lines of each and every prisoner in the camp and checking them off by their number. Their eyes would be looked at; the guards shining bright lights into their pupils; putting their fingers into prisoners mouths to check their teeth. Anyone that showed any sign of illness was dragged away. The screams haunted Bolin every night; the ones who were dragged off and never seen again.

Bolin didn't know their names, so he made up his own names for them. It helped, somehow.

They couldn't move. They couldn't talk. They were barely aloud to breathe.

You had to remember your spot, every time. Bolin had learned this the first night. You had to remember your number. If the numbers didn't match up, the prisoner in the wrong place would be dragged in front of everyone and the agonizing process would start over again.

Then they'd get a meager breakfast of a piece of bread, some cold, thin soup and some lukewarm water for breakfast. Bolin called it a good day if his bread didn't have mold in it.

They'd work ten hours a day straight digging huge holes, chopping wood, wielding metal, sorting tools.

Then the whistles would blow, and the screams would start. The masses of people would run to form lines of ten and the counting would start all over again as the sun set.

Then dinner.

Then bed.

Bolin wondered if Mako or Opal or Korra or Asami were watching the same sunset in Republic City, wondering where he was.

Ren helped Bolin off the bed and off the barrack as best as he could, Bolin leaning on him heavily and Bolin gripping his side. There was no time to put his shirt back and the slight breeze gave Bolin's bare skin goosebumps.

Ren helped Bolin walk as fast as he could to his spot in line, before the man rushed forward three rows and squeezed passed other prisoners into his spot.

"A 21!"

The head Commander with his clipboard yelled the number out and the Sargent Luong and the Doctor Shinigami inspected the number on the the little boy's wrist. The Dr. stuck his mirror into the boy's mouth and pulled at the skin around his eyes.

"STERILE!" Luong yelled, and then the next number was called.

Bolin's limbs locked into place, and he forced himself to become frozen. He pictured an icicle, he pictured the snow littering the back alleys of his city and how the ice had frozen his and Mako's feet so bad one winter that they had to spend all their money on a healer. If he became ice, he wouldn't move. If he didn't move, no one see him. He would be fine, then. He would-

"Kid, hey, kid," the man to his left with a sunken chest muttered under his breath, elbowing him slightly. All his ribs stuck out like a skeleton, and Bolin tried not to stare. "You gotta cover those scars and get a shirt on fast or they'll think you're unfit to work," he said, "And that bruised rib s'gonna give you a chest infection any day now if you don't heal it,"

"I'm fine," he whispered, but the ache of his still tender rib contradicted sharply to his words.

"Sure you are," the man looked straight ahead at an unseen point in front of him.

"A 24!"

Then the man was taking off his ragged shirt uniform, and putting it over Bolin's head.

"Don't be stubborn, kid, just take it before they see you!"

Bolin grunted as the man fiercely pulled the the itchy fabric over his head, and twisted his arms into it. Every moment was like fire to his body.

Bolin was about to ask the man what he was going to do without a shirt now, but saw he had another of the same uniform shirt underneath.

"STERILE!"

"For warmth," said the man, as if Bolin had asked him why he had two heads. "And helps with the lice,"

Bolin nodded. Lice were little bitty vermin that had caused many street kids to get typhus during Bolin's youth. Bolin's skin crawled just thinking about it.

"NO MOVING!" the commander shouted in their direction. Bolin flinched.

He was cold. He made himself cold, made himself stand there, mud covering him up to his calves. He was frozen. He wouldn't move. They wouldn't hurt him again. He was like the wind; he didn't have a purpose, he didn't have a body. He was drifting and cold.

He was frozen.

He was fro-

a guard yelled and struck out with his baton-

a women screamed-

He was-

"MOMMY!"

He-

A man in front of him collapsed to the ground. The teen next to him rushed to help him up, but the man's limbs flailed uselessly.

"C'mon, Shin!" the teen whispered urgently, "Don't do this to me,"

"Just leave him," another man with a dragon tattoo on his arm told the teenager. "He's the lucky one here,"

"Shin?!"

Bolin shut his eyes. He was frozen.

He was frozen.

...

...

...

"D 4902!"

His eyes snapped open. Luong and the doctor stood in front of him, both wearing smirks that twisted Bolin's stomach.

Bolin looked at his feet caked in dirt and scabs.

The baton was under his chin, pushing his head up to meet Luong's dark green eyes.

"Why, if it isn't my favorite maggot. How's your back doing this fine evening?"

Don't talk, Bolin thought to himself. Don't give them anything. Not even your fear.

Then pain flared up in his rib cage so fierce Bolin thought he was going to vomit, as Luong's hit from the baton sent him doubling over in a spasm.

"I asked you a question, D 4902!" Luong said in a firm, loud voice for all of them to hear, "And I expect an answer,"

Bolin swallowed back the bile in his throat, focusing on taking raspy breaths through his mouth. Off to his left he thought he saw Varrick, the man's blue eyes looking terrified and pitiful.

The hell with not talking.

"My name," a low growl came from the depths of Bolin's being, somewhere deep inside that was forged from the very earth he bent, "is Bolin,"

To his credit, Luong's eyes widened the slightest bit. His scowl darkened.

"What did you just say, D 4902?"

Bolin stood straight up, his limbs taunt. He leveled Luong with a matching glare of his own.

"My name," he repeated, "is Bolin. You're the one that's a maggot," and then he spit in the weasel-snake's face.

He could feel the wind on the breeze stop all at once, as if the world had stopped spinning and flopped upside down.

None of the guards said anything. They just all looked at each other as if saying, I want to kill him, no, I want to, can I do it?

Bolin knew he was going to be punished serverly for his words. He just didn't know if he was dumb enough or brave enough to keep talking.

He didn't wake up this morning deciding to become a martyr. But as he took in all the innocent men and women and children surrounding him in this merciless place, he knew he wasn't going to get out of here without trying to liberate as many people as possible. It very well may cost him, and many innocents their lives, but he was going to make sure their stories were told.

Because the world had to know. These people deserved peace and freedom- not just here- but in all the camps in all the Earth Kingdom. Who was going to tell their stories? Who was going to save them if they couldn't even find their voices?

And then in one swift moment, Luong grabbed his arm and dragged him to the front of the court yard in front of everybody. A rock flew into his knee and sent him down to the ground with a cry.

"You won't get away with this," he panted, covered in sweat despite the cold fall air "Avatar Korra will come and-"

"And what?" Luong smirked from beside him, his dark eyes alive like a ghost. "The so-called 'Avatar' is hiding away in the South Pole like a coward. She cannot walk, she cannot bend, and she will not save you,"

"Your friendship with the Avatar will not save you, slave, nor will your lava,"

The word 'lava?' was murmured throughout the crowed; peoples' eyes growing wide, some looking at him in astonishment. All Bolin could offer was a withering smile. Luong ignored them and lowered his gaze at Bolin.

"Tell them," he cocked his head to the people, daring Bolin to speak,"

"What?"

"Tell them how broken their savior is. You were there. You witnessed her downfall,"

There was a murmur going around the masses of people, whispers of words exchanged.

"SILENCE," Luong yelled and cracked his whip. Everyone shut up; Bolin could practically hear the cracks of all their spines snapping straight up at once.

"I..." Bolin swallowed thickly, "It-it's true that Avatar Korra was badly injured three years ago and that she was in a wheelchair. But I know for a fact that she left the South Pole six months ago on her own two feet and could be here any day now,"

Luong barked out a laugh, shaking his head. He dug in his pocket, a retrieved a box, dangling a fresh cigarette between his fingers. He waved it at a women prisoner with amber eyes and she extended her two fingers to light the nub, her face blank.

Luong stuck the cigarette into his mouth, pinching it between his two figures. He breathed in deeply, and let out an exhale that trailed white smoke from his mouth and nose.

"Please. You're embarrassing yourself. You're only feeding them false hope, D 4902!," Everyone looked around at each other as if to get an answer from someone, whispering, whispering amongst themselves.

"Actually, I have even better news, Sergeant Luong," Doctor Shinigami spoke up.

"Well, please, don't keep us waiting, doctor,"

"I have private sources that say that Avatar Korra is, in fact, dead,"

Bolin's heart stopped, a glob got stuck in his throat.

There was about a thousands simultaneous gasps from the courtyard.

"W-what?" he whispered.

No, these weasel-snakes, they couldn't do this! He wouldn't let them!

"She took her own life three years ago as result of her trauma and physical state. Pretty practical, if you tell me. How could a broken Avatar ever function?" he said, " And now, nearly four years later it is the Earth Empire's time for it's savior to be found, to make the Earth Empire stronger than ever before!"

Luong's smile to the doctor was like a snake ready to devour a mouse.

Bolin's mouth had gone so dry he could barely swallow. He was going to vomit. He was going to vomit not because he believed a word from these shit-heads, but because he couldn't believe any person could be so cruel.

Somewhere among the mobs of, filthy, half-starved slaves, he heard a women start to scream and cry as she fall to her knees. Another man by Varrick had clutched his hands in prayer, "No...No...No..." murmured over and over again.

"You're lying!" he yelled at at both men, then, turning to face the crowds, "I promise you, they're lying!" That seemed to quiet the panic somewhat, but it was clear that the poor, desperate people didn't know what to think.

"I'm friend's with the Beifong family, and Avatar Aang's family! I got word from Avatar Korra's father himself that Korra left the South Pole six months ago and has recovered her bending!"

It wasn't the whole truth, but it was what he had to say. It was what they needed to hear.

Luong just shook his head and laughed deep in his throat. Bolin turned to him, feeling himself shake. From fear, anger, he didn't know. But he said all he could think of. What else could he do? Then Luong came up in one quick motion and punched Bolin square in the jaw.

"Gahh!" he grunted and fell on his side, his bruised rib pushing against the mud-covered ground. There was blood in his mouth, like acid on his tongue. He could feel Luong looming over him like some creature of prey, sizing him up for a meal. He was just planning on which part to strike.

"I am going to break you, A 4902," his voice was a low, guttural, sound, "One of these days you'll wake up, but not be living. Your eyes will blink but see nothing. You will forget the sound of your own worthless name,"

Bolin just shut his eyes tight, waiting for the pain to come. The whip cracked, echoing against his ear drums.

"No!"

A cold body fell on top of him. A small, cold, trembling body, who's arms locked around his back and middle and held on so tight Bolin thought he might break in half.

Bolin's eyes snapped open.

"No! Stop it! I won't let you hurt him anymore!"

"MAI!" a women screaming, yelling, crying. "MAI, NO!"

Bolin turned his body, and saw a little girl about five years old, with amber eyes, who's clammy cheek was pressed against his neck. He could tell she was glaring at Luong with all the strength she could muster.

The women screaming for the girl was the women with the glassy eyes who had lit Luong's cigarette. She looked like a ghost, like one gust of wind and she would fade away.

Luong laughed again. "A 57. Why am I not surprised? After two years I would have thought you would have learned by now,"

She just fisted a handful of Bolin's shirt, and hung on tight. She was the girl that had firebent at a guard and laid unconscious in the filth for hours the other day after getting beaten up.

"If you want him, you'll have to hurt me first!"

One side of Luong's mouth rose up his face, his too-white teeth shining in his crooked smile.

"It seems that A 57 is delirious. Should we take you to the doctor to have a little checkup?"

The Ghost women wailed harder. "NO! PLEASE, NO! TAKE ME, TAKE ME INSTEAD!" Two other women tried to hold her back but she fought through, tripping over her frantic feet and falling hard in the mud.

"Mommy!" Mai yelled, but she didn't let go of Bolin.

Bolin didn't know it was possible to be this enraged; his body shook with it, his nerves singed with it. He breathed in slow, deep breathes to contain himself, but it was like he was a volcano and his core was ready to burst.

The girl must have took his labored breathing to mean he was hurt. Well, he was, but he wouldn't let her get hurt because of him.

"Go back," he whispered to the girl, "Get your mom and get back in line," he pleaded, "Please,"

"Not without you," she whimpered, her misty golden eyes looking into his own.

So he did what he had to do. He did what Mako had done so many countless times in the back of garbage-laden alleyways. Every morning when his older brother had to leave for some dangerous work and Bolin didn't know if he would ever see him again.

Bolin smiled softly, and brushed back the tears from her face. "I'll be fine," he said quietly, so only she could hear.

"That's enough!" Luong yelled, grabbing Mai from the callor of her shirt and hefting her up. She started screaming, her arms flailing uselessly.

"Hey, let her go!" Bolin snapped, raising his arms in preparation to attack with a swarm of lava. Maybe lava was what he needed, maybe that would finnally intimidate Luong and the guards.

Or it could make everything ten times worse. What if-

Then, Mai struck out with her fist; fire flew and caught the fabric of Luong's shoulder.

He dropped her instantly, cursing as he batted the flame. Then he bent some mud from the fifthly ground and globed his shoulder with it; the fire buzzed out.

Mai's eyed locked with Bolin's. 'Go', he mouthed to her, and she ran to where her mother was crumpled on the ground. The women jumped her feet and dragged Mai back in line.

Luong growled and stomped his foot hard onto the ground. A huge boulder emerged from the soil and hovered in the air above his outstretched hand.

"Does anyone else have anything to say?!" his voice was like a rabid animal, "Do we need to skip dinner?!"

No one dared say anything, and Bolin fisted his hands tight enough to break his fingers.

"P-please, sir," a young teen piped up, probably around sixteen. Bolin could see him shaking, "We've all been working so hard, the children need food-"

A guard provoked an eagle-hound on his leech, and the animal barked and snarled wildly at the teen's legs. The teen yelped and hid behind a man.

"Get to your barracks and stay there until morning roll call!" he ordered. Everyone dispersed as fast as they could, running around the courtyard like animals on a stampede.

Shakily, Bolin rose to his feet, trying to avoid Luong's glare.

"Sweet dreams, my pet," he cooed and spat a wad of tobacco at Bolin's feet. It was all Bolin could do not to attack him. Bolin just glared over his shoulder and walked back to the barracks, holding his aching rib cage.

One hour passed.

Then two.

Bolin watched the lights from the watch towers illuminate the room with light through the cracks in the wall, and then fade and wash the room in darkness.

Bolin's stomach ached and growled with hunger, but he tried to ignore the pains. He was freezing; the high winds whipping through the holes in their tiny shack sent tremors down his spine. He was used to hunger and cold, and he refused to complain about it.

But these poor children and people in his barrack were covered in mud, and filth, and scabs, and lice, and they needed food.

The room reeked of urine and feces and Bolin was sure that if he walked by a flower, that it would wilt in his presence.

"Mommy, I'm really hungry," Notin whined from the bunk across the room.

"Me, too," Sitka said, "And my head really hurts,"

"I know, loves. I wish there was something I could do. But we have to wait until morning,"

"But it hurts!" the boy cried, "And it's really cold," Kiyi sighed broken-heartedly and hugged her children close.

Bolin fisted his hands tight and clenched his teeth. Janaki squatted by the hole they were supposed to do their businesses in and moaned, clutching her stomach. The front of her pants were stained red, and her arms were red and blistery with a rash that wasn't there two days ago. She pulled at her crude haircut the guards had given her, looking wild, moaning over and over again.

"Janaki, dear," Ayah came over to her and keeled by her side, "It's alright, it's not your fault. Please, come back to bed,"

"Leave me alone!" a yell ripped out of her that wasn't human, and Ayah flinched back.

"Why is she bleeding from her front-butt?" Notin asked.

"That's not her butt, stupid," Sitka replied. Kiyi shushed them firmly.

"She was pregnant," Saki said, "Her baby's gone now,"

"Saki!" Kiyi and Ayah both warned.

"The baby died?" Notin asked. "Are we gonna die?"

Janaki wailed harder, ripping at strands of her hair.

"Should someone knock her out," Varrick asked. "Bolin, do that pebble-forehead thing and knock her out!"

"What?" he blinked, "No!"

"Quiet!" Ren complied, "Can we all just go to sleep?!"

"Psst!" the little whisper made them all quiet down and turn there heads in the direction of the noise. A little body slipped through a whole in the wall in the corner of the barrack. As she stepped forward and the watch tower light swept through the room, Bolin took notice of her face. It was caked in dirt and scabs, but Bolin would recongize those eyes anywhere.

"Mai!" he smiled, and she rushed up to him and into his arms.

"Bolin! I missed you!"

"I missed you, too, sweat pea," he hugged her tight, imaginging if he just held her like this, nothing bad would happen to her ever again.

"Mai!" Baraz, spoke up, the first thing he had said all night, "What are you doing here?! Your mother must be worried sick! How did you get past the guards?"

"I'm sneaky! I got lot'sa tricks!" she said with a smile, "And Mommy's really sick - that's why I came!"

Bolin frowned.

"What's the matter with her?" Ayah asked.

"There was lice all over her. I tried to get them off, but it's hard," she whined, " She really sweaty even through it's so cold out,"

Bolin felt his stomach sink. Oh, no.

"I heard the guards say there was a sickness going around. Ty...tyfesh...?"

Typhus.

Bolin gave a weary sigh.

"'Typhus,'" Varrick said, "It's-"

"Ren!" Bolin started, "You have to heal her! You have-!"

"-With what, kid?" Ren said tiredly, "Piss? She's as good as dead anyway,"

Mai gasped and grasped Bolin's arm. "No! Bolin, Mommy can't die! Please!" Tears were starting to stream down his face.

Bolin looked at her with wide eyes, and then took in the whole barrack around him. Everyone was looking right at him, as if he had all the awnsers.

It was the way he used to look at Mako when they were kids. It was they way he used to look at Korra.

Bolin grimaced and closed eyes tight.

Enough.

His eyes snapped open. "Baraz!," he snapped, "Follow me!"

The man didn't so much as blink. He was looking at somewhere other than the atmosphere around them, his eyes holding no light inside them.

"Baraz!" he repeated, sharper this time.

"Where are you going?!" Varrick looked frantic now.

"We're getting food and water and medical supplies," he stated, going over to Baraz and pulling him by the arm. He flinched and blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever stupor he was in.

"I'll come with you!" Mai said, walking to the door.

Bolin blinked at her.

Spirits, how was she this mature? Bolin had only known her for a day, but she mesmerized him. She was only six, and sometimes she sounded more like a ten year old in a four years old's malnourished body. Notin was only a year younger than her and still held that innocence with him, that confusion and wonder. Sometimes that little child in Mai would shine through, he'd been noticing, and he wanted her to stay like that forever.

"No, Mai," Bolin shook his head. "It's too dangerous. I don't want anything happening to you,"

"But I know where the guards hide all their supplies!" she said proudly.

"You do?"

"Yeah, I've been here for two years, and Mommy gets to stay with Luong most nights so she knows all their secret places!"

Bolin's face lost some of it's color at the implications of just what her mother and Luong would be doing together most nights. He shook the image out of his head.

Mai explained that the guards' and doctors' block held a kitchen on the other side of the camp, and a warehouse of food and medical supplies beside their barracks on block 14.

"So let's go!"

"No, Mai," he said again.

"But..."

He sighed and knelt down to her level. He looked at her for a moment. "Hey, do you trust me?" he asked quietly.

Mako kneeled in front him on the dirty alley ground. "Do you trust me?" Mako asked his six year old self.

Mai nodded, tears in her eyes.

He nodded, tears in his eyes.

"Then I need you to be a good girl for me, and stay here where it's safe until I come back, okay?"

"Then you need to stay here where it's safe and I can find you when I get back. I need you to be a good boy for me, alright?"

"Okay, Bolin..."

"Okay, Mako,"

And he ruffled her short, ragged hair.

And Mako ruffled his long, matted hair.

"Get as many water-skins as you can," Ren told him. He nodded. "Try to bring back cheese and jam. Those'll keep for a while. Water is essential,"

"And chocolate!" Notin called from above them on the bunk.

"Hey, kid," Varrick said from his slumped position on his mat, "Don't get freaking beat up again this time," he gave a sad smile, "You're too pretty for a martyr,"

"Since when?" he smirked. Mai giggled, though he doubted she knew what the word meant.

He looked to Baraz, who nodded fiercely. "Let's go," the firebender said.

And they slipped through the hole in the wall.

He was a kid again, and he was ancient. He was living two lives at the same time, and reality seemed to slip away from him like sand though his fingers.

He was an old man, weathered by his life. He was 6, 8, 11, 13 as he slipped between the long swaths of light that swept back and forth over the grounds. A gaurd would look out over the courtyard and he and the firebender would freeze, muscles going rigged, until the asswholes back would turn. All those times in the triads and those battles with Team Avatar really helped his heist skills.

But his body dragged from the hunger and the cold. The endless days of intense labor had exhausted his body to a point that he was sure he would have slept for a week if he was back home. His bruised rib ached with each moment and his lungs burned with each ragged lungful of air. His legs and back throbbed from hours of digging and sawing.

Honestly, he wasn't sure how he or Baraz was even running right now. Adrenaline and pure determination and rage? Probably.

He just had to get close enough and then he could bend them underground and up by the warehouse.

The watch tower light swept away from them, and they sprinted a good thirty-five feet.

"Okay, hang on," he said, and planted his feet. Spirits, he was bone-tried. But the warehouse wasn't far. He could do this. He had to do this.

Baraz latched onto him and he swung his arms out, creating a whole big enough for them to fall into. Underground was pitch black and Baraz instantly lit a flame to give them light.

Bolin took some deep breaths, his legs trembling and leaned against the tunnel. Spirits, why was it so hard to breathe? Was he getting a chest infection from his rib?

"You okay, kid," the man asked, his brows furrowed.

"I'm," he gasped, "fantastic, Baraz. How are you?" there was a slight bite to his words, and he instantly wanted to take them back.

"Okay, sorry," Baraz held up his hand in surrender. "Just didn't want a dead friend on my watch,"

Bolin shook his head, and stood up. He thrust out his arms, wrists bent, and palms toward him. The rocks pushed back to lead them further into the tunnel.

And they walked.

...

...

"This is it," Bolin said a few minutes later, his palm on the wall of the tunnel. He could feel a huge structure above them.

"You sure?"

Bolin didn't answer. He just moved his legs, pumped his arms up, and they shooted upwards.

The building in front of them was huge, to say the least. It's giant door that was used to transport vehicles in and out was dented and rusted and must have been thirty feet high.

He could hear music and clapping and talking from the building just south of where they were, and his skin crawled at the absurdity of it. The Earth Empire guards were all laughing and getting drunk and fattening themselves up while they starved their prisoners to death.

Bolin literally wanted to kill them all. He was sure if he saw one guard he may very well not be able to stop himself.

Baraz just turned his gaze from where the guards were all partying with a disgusted look on his face.

"At least they're distracted," Baraz said, "Could kill for a Sake' right now,"

Bolin couldn't speak. He had gone numb.

"Let's do this," Baraz was walking towered the door, and turned back to look at him when he saw he wasn't following.

"Shit," was all Bolin could say, "Shit," His stomach felt like it was dropping out from under him.

"What's wrong?"

"It's..."

Why hadn't he thought of this?! Was he that stupid? He hadn't thought this threw at all. He had failed. He had one mission and he failed miserably.

"Its's...it's all metal," he whined, throwing his hands in his hair. "I can't...I'm not..." he couldn't even finish. They were all counting on him. Mai was counting on him. Sitka and Not and Qin and Saki...

Baraz's mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide.

"You can't metalbend?!" he exclaimed loudly.

"Shhh!" Bolin's eyes darted to the party of literal killers just feet away.

"You can freaking bend lava, but you can't metalbend?!" he through his hands in the air, thoroughly exasperated.

"Baraz-"

"What did you think a warehouse full of earthbending military supplies at a slave camp would be made out of?! Noodles and dumplings?!"

"I-I just didn't see the need to have a metal building when no prisoners where gonna be earthbenders!"

"So who are you, then?" he exclaimed, as if Bolin were an enigma.

"I..." he trailed off, "I don't think I know anymore..." he whispered.

So much had changed in just the span of one week. So much horror and pain that Bolin didn't even know was possible.

Who was he? Was he Bolin, brother of Mako, boyfriend to Opal Beifong?

No. They had left on horrible terms. Mako and Opal probably hated him now.

Was he friend's with Asami Sato?

Probably not. Opal had probably told her what a backstabbing traitor he was.

Was he Bolin, part of Team Avatar?

No. He was a liar, is what he was. He had no idea where Korra was, or if she was okay. And he had looked all those people in the eye and lied through his teeth.

Was he a martyr to these people?

He couldn't even pull through with one mission.

What was his purpose? Who was he?

The inside of his wrist throbbed with the brand implanted on his tender flesh. He gripped his wrist so hard he heard his fingers would break.

He was just a number. And no one was coming for him.

"Hey, you two!"

Bolin and Baraz spun around at once. Bolin swallowed thickly, and Bolin got into a defensive stance, his hand lighting up with fire.

A guard was walking up to them, his green eyes looking straight at Bolin, like he was looking into his soul. His boots crunched over the gravel like the sound of crunching bones.

"You two have some nerve sneaking out at night against orders," he drawled.

In the distance, the smoke-stacks continued to blow out hazy, black puffs that made the air thick and dry, forcing Bolin to swallow repeatedly. The black ash covered the moon, bathing them in darkness, and Bolin felt himself frozen once again.

.....

Hope you enjoyed! Please review! If there is anything you'd like me to write for this fic, please let me know.

Also, the Doctor's name "Shinigami' means "Angels of Death" in Japanese.

Also, without giving too much away...let's just say a certain 'doctor' may give Bolin certain 'drugs' for torturous tourtuery reasons. These things happened to prisoners in the camps; they were experimented on in horrible, horrible ways.

But let's just say maybe...they inject him with something 'purple' and 'spirity'. Should he maybe...get some kind of 'spirity' powers? If you want an idea of what kind of spirity powers he MAY have, go check out my fic "Spirit Talker,"

Or should I just focus more on the depression and PSTD part?

Let me know what you think!


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